Wintersend
by Annemarie01
Summary: A (very alternative) kind of Christmas Carol. Your darkest fear becomes a true nightmare: being stuck into a place you can't get out of just before the most important days of the year. But it wouldn't be a true Christmas Carol if not all ends well ... wouldn't it ..? Does it really end well? Read and find out!


**A little Christmas present to all of my beloved readers because you are so very dear to me. And let there be no mistake, very dear! **

**I do hope you have a nice time.**

** Uhm, for the ones who don't like it, there's some smut involved. Some, mind you. (And pleae forgive me my misatakes; English is not my native language and I don't have a beta.)**

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><p>A different kind of Saturnalia<p>

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><p>Before Hawke had reached the end of the steps she heard the sturdy oaken door fall shut behind her back and immediately after that, like the sound of doom, the heavy iron bolt on the outside click into place. With a bout of panic she let the lantern she was carrying drop; the open copper lamp made a dull clinking sound when it hit the stairs and tumbled down the stone slabs and the candle it was holding extinguished. In the sudden darkness that engulfed her like the opposite of the fires of hell but with the same dread, Hawke stumbled over the last step. With a crash she collapsed on the hard floor, bruising her knees and her hands. She cursed out loud. She wasn't exactly afraid of the dark, but this pitch-black darkness that was almost tangible made her feel very uncomfortable. Her heart was racing. She breathed in the mouldy air with great gasps until she had calmed down somewhat. W<em>onderful; what now?<em> Instinctively she scrambled to her feet and tried, careful shuffling with outstretched arms, to find a wall to lean against; the vast space made her like she was floating in the Void and she needed an anchor. She found nothing. _Idiot_, she chastised herself, _leave the walls for later and_ _first_ _get that candle and go look for some matches_. Great idea. Where to find those? She got down on her knees again and fumbled for the dropped lantern. She felt silly, crawling on all fours, but finally her fingers touched the candle that hadn't rolled that far away. She sat up. _Good. Candle retrieved. Now go for something to light it with._ She puffed out some air. _I have to get out of here before it is too late._

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><p>Bodahn stepped into the Hanged Man and wrinkled his nose at the – characteristic smell of the establishment. With some difficulties he pushed his way through the throng of patrons until he had reached Varric's suite. The storyteller looked up from the notebook he had been scribbling in and stared surprised at Hawke's steward. 'Bodahn! What brings you here?'<p>

They other dwarf cleared his throat while trying not to breathe in too deep. 'I, er, I was wondering if you know where Messere Hawke is ..?' He looked around. 'Seeing as she isn't here?' He seemed to sag with disappointment. Or even with some despair.

Varric frowned. 'Hawke? As far as I know she's at home but since you're asking about her I suppose she isn't.'

'No, she is not. Even if she promised to decorate the house with Orana and me this evening.' He looked very concerned.

Varric put down his quill and leant back in his chair, taking in Bodahn's dismal expression. If the steward had gone as far as to conquer the dark streets of Lowtown, he must feel extremely bothered. The least he could do was to take him seriously. 'When was the last time you saw her?'

'This afternoon. I took Orana and Sandal to the market to buy the last supplies for the holidays, you know, to beat the crowd before they fill the shops on the last day before Saturnalia, and at the same time Messere Hawke went to pick up her new dress.'

'And she hasn't returned,' Varric assumed, still not exactly understanding the sincerity of the situation.

Hawke's steward nervously wriggled his fingers. 'She did return, I've seen the dress she put on a coat-hanger in her bedroom, but after that she apparently disappeared once more and she hasn't returned yet. It's way past nine bells in the evening! To be honest, Messere Varric, I'm worried sick. She always keeps her promises.'

Varric already opened his mouth to tell Bodahn there probably was a perfectly reasonable explanation she hadn't returned yet from whatever errand she was running or person she was visiting but at the same time thought the better of it. It _was_ strange, Hawke indeed always kept her promises and the only real explanation was, he feared, she was in trouble. But there was no need to kindle the steward's anxiety even more; he looked enough at the brink of bursting out into some kind of hysteric fit as it was. 'Just you go home, Bodahn and let me handle this. I'm sure I'll find her in no time.'

But as soon as Bodahn had turned his back, Varric was already banging on Isabela's door. The first place he wanted to visit was Fenris's; he wasn't certain at all if the elf knew where Hawke was hanging out, not after what had happened, but he could use his assistance. But no way he would go there alone, what with the aggravated mood the elf undoubtedly was still in. It was likely he would feel a hand through his chest before he could have uttered a word. Isabela's daggers and casual though steadfast appearance could come in handy.

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><p>Fenris was restlessly pacing his room in the half ruined mansion. He was extremely angry with himself; he had been acting like a complete idiot – again. He had stood yelling at the only person who cared about him and, when it came down to it, the only person he cared about himself. Way to go. Without any hesitation Hawke had gone with him to meet his sister although she was, just like him, afraid it would be a trap. And when the encounter turned out to be that very trap, she again without hesitation had positioned herself between him and Danarius. She had defied his former master, with her head held high told the magister with angry words and flaming eyes he was no pet and no slave but a free man and belonged to no-one but himself. She was the one who had shaken him out off the stupor that had threatened to overwhelm him. He wouldn't have been able to face and defeat Danarius without her. And yet, after it was done and he, at least theoretically, had been freed off the last shackles that had bound him to his past, he had stormed out of the Hanged Man and, much worse, had lashed out to her and practically chased her away when she, that same night, had come to see if he was all right. Why, for heaven's sake had he done that? What had he been thinking? He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. It had nothing to do with misplaced pride, about that he was certain. Yes, he had been angry she had prevented him to kill his sister, but that hadn't been the reason either. She had been right about that; killing Varania wouldn't have given him the freedom of mind he craved for. It would just have been a petty act of empty misplaced vengeance; by now he was certain he would have regretted it the moment he would have torn his sister's heart out. He shook his head in impotent fury. He knew what the problem was. He had always thought that finishing his master would settle the matter but of course he should have known better. The death of Hadriana had only made things worse, how could he have ever believed the death of Danarius would solve all his problems.<p>

The confrontation with the Tevinter Magister had come as a shock beyond compare, even though he had more or less expected it, almost foreseen it, even though – he grinded his teeth forcefully – he had for crying out loud _braced_ himself against the inevitable. It definitely had brought out the worst in him. All kinds of gruesome memories had been swirling through his mind ever since. All the memories he had cast into a silent corner of his mind had roared their ugly heads to pester him. No, he hadn't been able to think clear but that was no excuse for his behaviour. He had been shouting she didn't understand anything of his suffering, nothing of the sudden emptiness that had come over him, the black pit that threatened to suck him in. But though the pit might be black, it wasn't empty – Maker he wished it were! – instead it pulled at him with those dreadful images of his dark past. That made it even worse. And that had been the reason why he had been shouting, to drown out the whispers, the voices, the desperate screams that had haunted him for so many years and so unexpectedly had raised their volume. He had been shouting to shut them out. And he had been yelling at her as if it was her fault his former master had turned up, as if she was to blame for his misery. As if she was the cause of this tormenting turmoil raging in his head. Again he cringed in remorse.

The past days he had been trying to write a letter to apologize to her and the efforts were now strewn around him as crumpled up balls of paper. He absolutely couldn't find the right words to express his regret. With a frustrated growl he kicked one of the balls through the room and at the same moment Varric and Isabela entered.

The dwarf look intrigued around. 'This is the first time I see more paper than bottles scattered on the floor,' he commented, 'what have you been up to?'

Fenris scowled menacing at him. 'That's none of your business.' At the same time he realized Varric had been present at the distressing event and he didn't doubt for a second the dwarf understood more than he was willing to admit. He must know of his idiotic behaviour against Hawke.

'You're right and it doesn't matter anyhow. Hawke's missing,' Varric came to the point without further ado. This was so unlike him it only emphasised the gravity of the matter.

The elf grew rigid in an instant. He felt his heart go cold. Hoarsely he said, 'What do you mean "missing"?'

Varric snorted. 'I mean like in vanished in thin air, disappeared like snow in summer. Should I draw you a picture? There're lying enough sheets of paper about. Bodahn came to the Hanged Man to tell me Hawke has left her home late in the afternoon and hasn't returned yet.'

Fenris allowed himself to heave a sigh of relief. Hawke always went her own way; at best she would tell her servants she wouldn't be home for dinner. So he didn't look convinced when he said, 'Perhaps she went to visit someone –'

He got immediately cut short by Varric. 'She had promised to be home to decorate the house.'

The impact of the word "promise" hit home the very instant. Just as everyone else Fenris knew how much keeping her promises meant to Hawke. He grabbed the back of a chair because his knees suddenly went very weak.

'I see you understand what I'm trying to make clear,' Varric remarked dryly.

'We have to find her,' Fenris said with a quivering voice. He was suddenly afraid he had done even more harm with his tongue-lashing than he already thought. What if she had decided to flee this city, to turn her back to him, to turn her back against everything that – he got interrupted by Isabela.

'I completely agree. Any suggestions about where to go searching?' the pirate queen informed somewhat sarcastically, 'it's not that she has a lack of enemies.'

Fenris stared at the pirate and felt his worries shift. Enemies – that put things in a whole other perspective. He pulled himself together with force; this was not the time to whine over his mistakes. Yes, it could well be she had been captured by one of her many enemies. If that were the case they had to react immediately. His blood started to pump and the adrenaline almost made him combust. His markings lighted up.

'We will start at the Carta,' he had said determinedly, 'I can't imagine they harbour warm feelings for her after the business in the Vinmark Mountains. It could well be they are behind her disappearance.'

'Brilliant idea,' Isabela scoffed, not in the least intimidated by his blue light, 'we and what army?'

Varric pinched the bridge of his impressive nose. 'I think the elf is right, Rivaini. The Carta, just as the Coterie, always know what's going on in this blasted city. It could well be they know where she is, even if they have nothing to do with it.'

There glowed a dangerous light in Fenris's eyes. He reached for his sword sitting on the weapon rack. 'Let's waste no time and go right now.'

'And again, we and what army?' Isabela repeated with emphasis.

Varric looked up at the both of them, grimacing painfully. 'Let's pay the Merchant Guild a visit first. If it puts your minds at ease, despite my aversion to the greedy bastards I have my contacts.' He closed his eyes and groaned. 'Who would have thought the Merchant Guild would one day come in handy. Ancestors preserve me.'

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><p>Hawke leant her forehead against the slab of thick wood. She wanted to kick herself. She had pummelled the door till her fists were bruised and shouted her voice to shreds but of course no one had heard her. The cellar laid behind the pantry that on its turn laid behind the kitchen, such a long way from the actual house. And besides that the door was too thick and robust to let sounds through. How could she have been so stupid as to let the bloody thing slip? She only had wanted to fetch the bottles of wine for the celebration of Saturnalia. She had been in a hurry and had not taken the time to put the wedge into place to prevent the door would fall shut. It was a precaution they had started to take up after Sandal accidentally had locked himself in. She bloody well knew the stupid door had the tendency to close on its own account and even so she now on her turn had made a prison of her own cellar. Because trying to escape through the other entrance, the entrance leading to the Undercity, was of even less use than trying to bust this one open; Anders had sealed that door with a solid ward. Even if she had been a mage she wouldn't have been able to break that particularly seal. She picked up the dented lantern and descended the stairs once more.<p>

She had not only been in a hurry but had been distracted as well. With a deep sigh she sank down on the floor and blew out the candle. She had found a box of matches but not the stack of fresh candles she was convinced should be lying around somewhere. As long as she hadn't located those she had to be cautious not to burn up the one she had too quickly. She folded her arms around her pulled up legs and buried her face into her knees.

Distracted. That was one way to put it. She had been sick with worries about how Fenris had taken the fight against and the death of his former master. And perhaps even more important the betrayal of his sister. She snorted derisively. He had recognised her the moment he spotted her in the Hanged Man. The same sister that belonged to the memories he had left her for three years ago; the same red-haired bitch that had been willing to turn him in, who had brought that creepy monster with her to drag her elf back to Minrathous. She shivered. She knew by now that vile witch was part of his fleeting memories; she had seen his eyes open wide with sudden recollection. With exaltation. Exaltation that had been drowned in despair and unbelief a moment after. She still didn't comprehend what had made her stay his hand when he had wanted to kill her. Yes, the image of her own brother being crushed by that ogre still haunted her and even more the memory of being forced to kill her beloved sister in those cursed Deep Roads. She had wanted to spare him that feeling of guilt. She had had to restrain herself after Varania's last words to pounce upon the ungrateful woman herself_. "You got the better end of the bargain." _Those words still infuriated her. The serpent really didn't know anything about her brother's sacrifice, about his struggles and excruciating pain and evidently didn't _want_ to know. She just revelled in her own misery and had only wished to wound her brother some more before she fled the scene. To give him a final devastating blow after her devilish scheme had gone wrong. By now she wished she had finished her off herself. She made a face. Excellent Saturnalia sentiments. On the other hand, understanding and forgiveness could only go that far.

She could comprehend the words Fenris had thrown at her when she had come to him that same night although they had hurt her deeply. She tried very hard to understand the things he had said weren't aimed at her but at his own grief. At the feelings Danarius had stirred up and the poisonous words Varania had spoken. Nevertheless it _had_ hurt her. She took a shivering breath and reached for the matches. She had to find a way out of here before the darkness would consume her.

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><p>Fergon Bhelarson had never encountered an elf in the flesh before. That was to say, he saw enough of their kind scurrying around here in the Undercity where the Carta had their headquarters. But those were pathetic harmless creatures, not at all like the elf who without hesitation or an explanation at all pushed a sharp gauntleted hand through his chest and was now close to murder him. He stared wide-eyed at the white-haired apparition and tried not to breathe in. He felt the sharp talons closing around his heart and knew he was just a beat away from death. It didn't help the same apparition was engulfed with an eerie blue light.<p>

'We want some information,' a voice floated through the air. 'Please, Fenris. I think you have made your point. Let him go.'

The next moment Bhelarson felt a gush of oxygen enter his tortured lungs and he fell on his knees. 'Varric,' he managed with great difficulty, 'what, by the Stone –'

'Let's forgo the pleasantries, shall we,' Varric cut the wheezing dwarf short, 'we just want to know what happened to the Champion.'

The Caput of the Carta stared up and looked at the stern face through bleary eyes. 'What?'

The tall lanky elf might have removed his armoured hand but now stood glaring at him with crossed arms and a look upon his face that promised much worse if he didn't cooperate. And behind him he noticed not only the notorious Storyteller, the as good as legendary dwarf who had made the journey from Orzammar to Topside without as much as a flinch and had taken his silent but most significant place beside his bloating brother. His very dead brother, Bhelarson remembered all too well. And, even more important, he was the same notorious dwarf who had travelled through the Deep Roads, and had not only survived that enterprise but had come back as a rich man; the one Topsider that was a Paragon all but in title. But he also saw a crowd of Guild members who could make his life a living hell. They all glowered at him as if he hadn't provided them with the goods that had made them wealthy dwarves. And besides that a woman overtowered the crowd of his so-called brethren, a woman who was clad as a human whore but stared at him with the eyes of an assassin. He shivered once more.

He realized this very moment he might be a great name in this sinful city but that that reputation was worth nothing without the silent approval of the Merchant Guild. And since that Guild was nothing without the same silent approval of the Storyteller, he knew his life was forfeit though he didn't know why. He blinked and then clasped his hands. 'Please, Varric,' he tried desperately, 'we have done nothing to harm the Champion. Why should we? There's nothing to gain in harming her.'

The Storyteller gazed contemplatively at him. 'Really? And what about the goings on in the Vinmark Mountains? You lot very hard tried to kill the Champion back there and in return she made minced meat of the gone crazy bastards. This could be payback. We both know how vengeful our kind can be.'

Fergon Bhelarson fervently fluttered his hands. 'We had nothing to do with that! Those were a bunch of harebrained fools that let get themselves involved with some unsavoury plot of Grey Wardens! You can't really think we had a hand in it! What kind of profit would that has earned us!' He felt the penetrating eyes of the other dwarf almost drill holes in his head.

Finally Varric seemed to come to a decision and nodded. 'I'm willing to believe that – for now,' he added in a dark voice. 'But that doesn't mean you can go on with your unholy enterprises unscathed – unless –' He let the thread hover in the air.

'Unless what?' Fergon Bhelarson wavered.

Varric smiled unpleasantly. 'Unless you and your men accompany us to the headquarters of the Coterie.' The smile broadened to a wide grin. 'We'll frighten the living daylight out off their sorry arses. And I have no doubt you want to kick the muck out off their innards.'

'We have had some kind of truce or understanding for lots of years,' Fergon Bhelarson started his protest and then met the deadly gaze of the Paragon-in-all-but-title, the frightening elf, the large terrifying human woman and the host of the Guild. All of them carrying scary large weapons. He gave in. 'Let's go and frighten the living daylight – let's go and, do something,' he mumbled defeated.

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><p>Fenris grimaced. He hadn't liked it at all to be used as the living weapon he had been created for. Once again it stirred up horrifying memories. On the other hand, he would have done anything to save Hawke. He had agreed with Varric to use the Carta as a force against the Coterie. To start with the Guild, what had almost been a war on itself. Luckily Varric had turned out to be an authority by himself – the dwarf had looked at him and Isabela in an excusing way and he nearly had had to laugh. He knew about the reluctant feelings, to put it mildly, Varric carried against the Guild. But now push came to shove it turned out he indeed was some kind of legend, if not a Paragon as Isabela had insisted. A real authority. Someone the other dwarves were not only willing to listen to but were willing to follow. It hadn't taken him much effort to drag the members along with them. To be honest, he just had had to shout loud. For some reason or another, dwarves seemed likely to follow the bugger that had the strongest voice. And came up with the most overwhelming motive. And that motive, how surprising, turned out to be profit. Varric had pointed out that by putting the Carta under pressure, the Guild would benefit greatly.<p>

They all knew it was nonsense, but as long as they were caught in the enchantment Varric had accomplished to snare them in, it would work.

And, frankly, Fenris didn't care how the dwarf did do it, what means they had to use. What means he himself had to use. If in the end he found Marian Hawke alive and could hold her in his arms and apologise to her for his stupid harsh words, and all his equally stupid acts, he would be grateful.

And thus he had threatened the Caput of the Carta. And was now on his way to do the same to the Head of the Coterie. Everything for her.

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><p>Hawke remembered so very clear the lovely Saturnalia celebrations they had had in Lothering back in the days when they still were together as a family. The wonderful celebrations they had held with all the neighbours. At this very moment, sitting with her back leaning against the cold unyielding wall she finally had found, she could feel the warm comforting fires and smell the roasted chestnuts, the fresh bread and taste the simple but o so magnificent meals they had shared together. She could see the breathtaking star-filled heavens they had looked at after the meals. With a lump in her throat she recalled how she had felt like a fitting piece of the puzzle that was the community, the same community that had bid her and her family a warm welcome despite they all knew her father was an apostate. Lothering had been a warm bath after a long travel that most of the time seemed more like a flight through an unforgiving chilly world. They had been thankful they were being allowed to settle down in this specific place. The inhabitants were graceful enough to accept a family of apostates, moreover because the apostate was a mage who healed their wounds and treated their sicknesses. Who even healed the injuries of the Templars stationed in the small Chantry. And so those same Templars had turned their heads. In Lothering they finally had felt safe.<p>

She remembered the grand tree in the middle of the village, how everyone had decorated it, anticipating the most important night of the year, and had gathered around it at midnight. For days she and the ones her age had enthusiastically dragged dry logs and branches to the centre of the village to fuel the great heap of dried wood that would burn throughout the night until the light of the day would return. They all had waited with excited anticipation for the village-elder to throw the flaming torch into the gathered wood and start the bonfire that would last until dawn. They had danced around it under the bright heaven; the everlasting dance of the Lord of the Darkness and the Lady of the Light. An old tale that the Chantry of Lothering didn't like but was willing to tolerate. A pagan tale and very much loved.

At one of those remarkable nights she had lost her virginity. To a young Templar no less. She still didn't regret it for one moment. They had been in love. Some kind of puppy love, she now recognized. He had been as nervous and wounded up as she had been. But, more important, he had been understanding, sweet and patient. She carried very pleasant memories of that specific occasion.

Hawke clutched her legs with force and sobbed desperately. Oh, how she longed to live those days once more. To be with both her parents, with her insufferable but at the same time loveable brother and childish but sweet sister. To be with all the villagers, to be with that young Templar, or, to be honest, preferably Fenris taking his place, but anyhow to go back to that simple but so cherished life.

She didn't know how much longer she could endure this darkness.

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><p>Vidar Harlan was – if possible – even more unpleasantly surprised than Fergon Bhelarson had been. Not in the last place because he was caught in the act, so to say. He was having a very enjoyable time with a girl he had ordered from the Blooming Rose, the establishment he owned after all, up until the moment a mass of dwarves invaded his bedroom. His very private bedroom. The girl he was with squeaked in panic and fled the bed to take refuge in a large cupboard. Only much later she fled the place to turn home. With a quite interesting story. And, to her astonishment, a sack filled with gold. She was highly surprised but then again, it was Saturnalia. Anything could happen.<p>

'What is the meaning of this?' the Head of the Coterie demanded with all the dignity he could muster which wasn't easy for a man dressed only in his bare skin.

Fenris considered it unnecessary to use his "talent" this time. The man was suffering enough as it was.

Like right now Harlan was staring into the face of a dangerously grinning dwarf. 'I notice you're inspecting the merchandise. Always good to see a man taking his job seriously,' the dwarf commented blank faced. And everyone knew he was most dangerous at those times.

The Head of the Coterie drew himself up while he attempted to cover himself with a bedspread. 'What the hell are you doing here?' he commanded to know.

Not moments earlier the men who had guarded the entrance to the headquarters had asked the same question just before they discovered they weren't able to stop the swarm of dwarves that out of the sudden flooded the headquarters in the Docks.

'I'll make it brief because I can see you're a busy man,' Varric said nonchalantly, 'just a simple inquiry.' He paused a few moments for the effect. 'Where is the Champion?'

Vidar Harlan stared incredulously at him. 'And how the fuck am I suppose to know?!'

Varric caressed his beloved crossbow in a deceivingly casual way. It didn't escape the Head of the Coterie but he pretended not to notice. 'Because I know that you know everything that's going on in this city.'

'I was under the impression _you_ were the all-knowing one,' Harlan bit back. The dwarf's reputation was not only famous among the Merchant Guild and the Carta.

'That might be,' Varric nodded, 'but I don't bear a grudge against the Champion.'

'And what makes you think_ I_ do.'

'She has thwarted you more than once,' Varric replied, smiling at the memory.

'Ah yes,' Isabela, standing next to him, mused, 'good times. Such good times.'

'What the lady means,' Varric explained – Harlan winced at the word "lady" –, 'is that we wouldn't put it past you you finally decided to give her a payback. So tell me. Where is she.'

Fenris had to admit he admired the man. Harlan might be the leader of one of the two biggest criminal cartels in Kirkwall, right now he was surrounded by enemies while sitting naked in his bed and he could not make an appeal on his men. But even so he showed no fear whatsoever. Of course it was bluff but first-rated bluff. Extraordinary.

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he said haughtily.

Varric tapped his fingers on Bianca. 'Right,' he came to a conclusion, 'then there's only one option left.'

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><p>Fergon Bhelarson looked rather sheepishly at Vidar Harlan. 'What the hell just happened?'<p>

The Head of the Coterie looked back with slightly raised eyebrows. 'You tell me. I believe this is more your area of expertise.'

In the meantime Harlan had got dressed and had moved to his luxuriously furnished living room. That he had chosen to live in the Docks didn't mean he had to share the poor conditions of the district. He offered Bhelarson a glass of whisky which the Caput gratefully accepted. He craved for a swig of strong liquor after what happened. They both sat down in the easy-chairs positioned in front of the comforting fire in the large marble hearth. The chairman of the Merchant Guild had already taken his leave with his members; he had made it very obvious with a high held head and cursing under his breath he was not willing to burn his fingers more than was necessary to keep the Storyteller off his back.

Apparently the infuriating dwarf called the Storyteller, some sort of Paragon if Harlan had to believe the stories of the Carta, had taken over without him or someone else being able to do anything about it. He had stone-faced – Harlan had to grimace foully at the expression (fucking dwarves and their Stone) – ordered both the Carta and the Coterie to start some kind of expedition to find the gone missing Champion.

'_You know what to do, you lousy buggers, go look and comb the Undercity, the Docks and Lowtown. And don't forget the cellars of the wealthy in Hightown. I'm fairly certain you're familiar with those.'_

And without any questions or protests both groups had run off to follow his orders.

'He's a rather plucky bloke, isn't he,' Harlan pondered.

Bhelarson snorted. 'That's one way to put it.'

'How do you cope with him?'

'We don't. He just happens.'

'And you let him happen,' Harlan understood.

The dwarf looked apologetically. 'We don't seem to have a choice.'

'I see.' Harlan took a sip of his expensive drink and cleared his throat. He deemed it safer to change subjects. 'How, er, how is business these days?'

Bhelarson shrugged. 'As good as can be expected I suppose. You know the expression: could be better, could be worse. I take it it's the same with you?'

Contemplatively Harlan filled up the empty glasses. 'Indeed it is. I've been thinking – perhaps it could be profitable to, you know, work together now and again ..? To a certain degree of course.'

Fergon Bhelarson cocked his head. 'It's surely something to take into consideration,' he reacted cautiously.

'Well, whatever the case, it's almost Saturnalia,' Harlan smiled awkwardly, 'since you're here anyway let's make the best of it.'

The Caput of the Carta looked up at the Head of the Coterie. He smiled back and heaved his glass. 'To cooperation,' he beamed.

'To cooperation it is,' Harlan replied.

And so, for the first time ever, Carta and Coterie celebrated Saturnalia together. Due to a door fallen shut. And a dwarf with a very big mouth.

* * *

><p>The word cellar, uttered by Varric, kept nagging at Fenris's mind for hours although he wasn't aware of it at first, due to the disturbing thoughts swirling through his head.<p>

It was around midnight and they were all gathered in Varric's suite. "All" meant the whole bunch, including Aveline and her husband Donnic, Sebastian, Merrill and, to Fenris´s dismay, Anders. He hated the man who had tried so hard to win Marian over after that one wonderful and then completely gone wrong night. The mage had made no secret of his feelings for Marian or of his efforts to lead her to his bed. That she hadn´t responded to his pleas and attempts didn´t do anything to ease Fenris´s mind.

The elf was pacing the room. He looked like a caged animal at the brink of ripping his bonds. From the moment he had learned Hawke had gone missing, a small but persistent voice at the back of his mind had tried to tell him something he absolutely didn't want to hear. But after neither the Carta and the Coterie nor they themselves had been able to find even the smallest trace of Hawke, that voice had rapidly become a roaring thunder. It was a thought so terrible it almost deprived him of his sanity.

´By Andraste's flaming knickers, Fenris,´ Varric called out irritated, ´please calm down, won't you, you're making me dizzy. We´re all concerned. We´re all trying to find a solution.´

Fenris turned violently, a sneer on his face. ´What if Danarius was not the only magister who came from Tevinter,´ he blurted out his burning fear, ´what if another mage followed him and has taken her? She is the Champion! A prise for every Tevinter magister!'

The assembly stared at him. 'You're not serious, are you?' Anders mocked, 'it sounds rather paranoid to me.'

'Paranoid?!' Fenris hissed heatedly, clenching his fists, 'it is clear you still don't know, or better don't want to know one bit about the methods of Tevinter magisters. They are capable of anything to obtain more power!'

'Oh yes!' Anders scoffed, 'because all that mages can think of is power!'

'In my experience it is,' Fenris bit back.

'Stop it, you two,' Aveline intervened sternly, 'bickering won't bring Hawke back.'

The two sworn enemies kept glaring at each other until Isabela broke the strained silence. 'Right,' she said, 'it seems we have to search the ships in the harbour.'

'You're not really taking this outrageous brain-wave seriously?' Anders cried incredulously.

'I said stop it!' The Guard Captain raised her voice while she thumped the table.

'I thought the Carta and Coterie took charge of the Docks,' Donnic said hesitantly.

Varric rubbed his face. 'The Docks, yes. Not the ships.' He shot the others a brittle smile. 'Sorry Anders but in my opinion Fenris has a valid point.' He sighed. 'So it looks like we have yet to take up another task.'

The elf had already exited the suite before the last words were uttered.

* * *

><p>The only thing they managed to do was leaving a trail of startled and infuriated ship captains, scattered and distressed deckhands and tons of upside down turned cargo. They didn't discover one Tevinter ship and not a sliver of information about Hawke's whereabouts. Finally the harbourmaster, alarmed by the increasing amount of complaining people storming into his office, put an end to their drastic endeavour. Varric had to promise to send over a cask of first class rum to let the peace return but even so the confusion and irritation lasted for quite a while. Although, fair is fair, ultimately the ruckus changed character and turned into an early Saturnalia party with lots of fraternizing and new friendships. And again due to ... well, let's call it some thoughtless behaviour.<p>

'This is just brilliant,' Aveline groused while they were walking through Lowtown with nothing achieved but causing a turmoil in the harbour, 'Bran will have my hide for this. I bet I will receive a very special Saturnalia present this year.'

'I didn't know you exchanged Saturnalia presents with the Seneschal, Aveline,' Merrill chirped, 'that's so sweet. I thought you two didn't get along, but I suppose that's the real spirit of ...' Her voice trailed off when she saw Aveline's face. 'I got it wrong again, didn't I,' she mumbled to Sebastian who was walking next to her.

The Chantry brother smiled reassuringly back. 'That doesn't matter, Merrill. It's the positive thought that counts.'

The Guard Captain rolled her eyes and could just refrain from giving a snappy remark.

'I told you it was an idiotic idea,' Anders said with badly hidden triumph.

'Shut up,' Donnic warned him. He could simply _feel_ the dangerous glow in Fenris's eyes and he fervently wanted to prevent bloodshed.

'And what do we do now?' Isabela asked tired, 'it's past noon by now and we haven't found a clue whatsoever.'

'I don't know about you lot, but I'm going to try to catch some hours of sleep after a sleepless night,' Varric replied while he stomped angrily along the streets of Lowtown as if he wanted to punish the cobblestones for the mess, 'I suggest we will meet again at the Hanged Man around six bells this evening. Hawke has to be somewhere, we just haven't thought of the right spot yet.'

They all agreed, though somewhat reluctantly, and went their own way for the time being.

* * *

><p>Fenris slammed the door of his mansion shut and ascended the stairs in what could be called the mother of all foul moods. He put his sword on the weapon rack and removed his armour and gauntlets and tossed them on the table. Get some hours of sleep. Yeah right. Like he would succeed in simply lying down on his bed, closing his eyes and drifting off. Aggravated he poked into the dying fire. Where the hell could she be?! He poked some more and with more viciousness until the fire roared once again. He dropped the poker and decided to fetch a bottle of wine to pass the empty hours of waiting with. Without much gusto he shuffled downstairs to go to the cellar. He suddenly held still and frowned. Cellar. Varric had mentioned looking in cellars. And finally it struck him.<em> You utter blind moron<em>. He spun on his heels and started running. Minutes later he banged like a madman on the entrance to the Amell estate.

'Messere!' Bodahn, who opened the door, cried out, 'have you found her?'

Without an answer Fenris pushed the steward aside and raced to the kitchen.

Hawke had completely lost track of time and didn't know whether it was day or night. It didn't matter anyhow; she still hadn't located other candles and had been forced to sit most of the time in complete darkness. How long had she been locked up by now? Hours? Days? Why, for the Maker's sake, didn't any of the servants need to come down here? Because everything required for the Saturnalia festivities had already been stocked in the pantry, she thought sourly, everything except for the wine. With a pang of regret she realized Bodahn and Orana must be beside themselves with fear by now. She had past the stages of fright, melancholy and self-pity and was now entering the phase of desperation. It looked like she had to spend the most wonderful time of the year all alone in pitch darkness. And that her friends and servants would spend it worrying about what had befallen her. For the first time in her life she wished she were a mage so she could burn that stubborn piece of a blasted door down or blow it to shreds. She bit back tears of frustration.

And then a sudden broad beam of light abruptly blinded her. She lifted her hand to cover her eyes and scrambled onto her feet. 'Bodahn ..?' she said hesitantly, 'is that you? The wedge, think about the wedge. It - ' The next moment she felt a pair of strong arms around her, embracing her so hard it almost pushed the wind out of her lungs.

'Marian,' a well-known and much longed for low husky voice stuttered, 'Marian love, I was so scared something terrible had happened to you.' She heard a taking in of a deep shuddering breath. 'I should have known you were trapped in here, I should have come sooner.'

_Fenris_

With a sob of relief she clung on to him. He pulled her frame even closer to his and buried his face in her hair. She could feel his heart beat powerfully. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered.

'Sorry?' she said bewildered, with difficulty stifling another snivel, 'you're sorry for rescuing me?'

Fenris uttered a rather shivering chortle. 'No. Of course not.' He seemed to sob himself this time. 'I'm sorry for leaving you three years ago, for being such a fool and a coward. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for the awful words I hurled at you recently. You of all people didn't deserve that. I behaved like an utmost jackass. Both times. For what it's worth, I didn't mean what I shouted. And I never meant to leave you. I just – I just got dragged away by those memories.'

'I know,' Hawke breathed and only then his use of her given name and the additive "love" hit home. She couldn't help starting crying.

Fenris heaved his head and framed her face with his hands. 'Did I say something wrong?' he asked with anxiety.

'You said "love",' Marian sniffed.

'Yes,' he said, 'and I meant it.' He bit his lip and tenderly wiped away the tears on her cheeks with the pad of his thumbs. 'Can you forgive me?'

She gave him a fragile but warm smile. 'There's nothing to forgive, I understand.' She added with a moist little laugh, 'I understood back then and I understand right now.'

Without thinking he let lips descend on hers and he felt a thrill going through his system at the soft touch. At the memory so unexpectedly turning into reality. She threw her arms around his neck and waist and responded to his kiss with almost frantic passion. Their tongues entangled in a heated dance, as if they both desperately tried to quench their thirst for each other, as if they wanted to make up for the wasted years within mere moments. When she pulled away to take a gulp of air she mumbled, 'Don't you even think of letting go off me.'

'I wouldn't dare,' he replied hoarsely and attacked her mouth for a second time. His head started spinning when he again tasted her and it got through to him in full he was really holding the body he had dreamed about for so many times. The body of the woman he loved. Her hands slipped under his shirt to wander over his naked skin and with a shiver he tightened his grip on her behind.

'Marian,' he murmured helplessly, 'I yearn so much for you.'

'Then don't hold back. Please don't hold back.' To emphasize her desire for him she almost tore his shirt in her haste to get it off of him. She grinded against his fast hardening member and his breath hitched.

In response he simply ripped apart the finery she wore to get access to her wonderful breasts as fast as possible. 'You're so beautiful,' he panted, 'all those years, those stupid squandered lonely years –'

'Let's make up for them, starting right now,' she interrupted him before he could lose himself in remorse. She persuaded him by reaching into his pants and closing her hand challengingly around his firm standing length. Her fingers stroked him with unwavering want and he squirmed at the touch. She whispered into his sensitive ear, 'you may have yearned for me, you don't know half how much I've yearned for you.'

She couldn't possibly give him more encouragement. He pushed her against the wall and with trembling though determined fingers got rid of her smallclothes. She threw her legs around him while he lifted her and with a groan he entered her. He breathed her name in excitement when he drowned in her.

He closed his eyes and started moving. At first slowly, with ecstasy drinking in all the soft moaning sounds she made, feeling the wet heath that surrounded him and sucked him in, deeper, constantly deeper, until he couldn't take it any longer and he didn't even want to restrain himself any more. He pounded ferociously into her embracing sheath. Suddenly he heard her cry out his name and at the same time felt her clamp around him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders while she kept whimpering his name in her seemingly everlasting release. And then a mighty orgasm took hold of him. He poured all of his love and endured fears and desire for her in one mighty outburst. When it was over he sank with trembling knees on the floor, taking her with him, still connected to her, holding her fiercely. He thought his lungs would burst. 'I love you,' he uttered, struggling for breath, 'my Marian, I love you so much.' He had never felt more fulfilled, thankful and at the same time more shaken in his whole life. Now he had given her all of his soul, all of his essence. He had tossed his sister aside; he would never feel the meaning of family, not if Marian didn't agree to be some kind of family to him. She _was_ his family, his only family; as long he had understood right that family meant the persons you loved, the ones closest to you. But he understood so little of it. He sighed deeply. He knew he shouldn't be afraid for her reaction but nevertheless he was. It turned out he indeed shouldn't have bothered.

She held on to him as if he was her life saviour which, at this moment, pretty much was the case. 'And I love you,' she wept, 'you mean everything to me.' And then a shakily laugh escaped her. 'Look at me, one moment utterly desperate, the next moment the happiest woman in Thedas.' And after that, as if she had read his mind, she said to his exalted astonishment, 'You're the only family that is left to me. That is, if you will stay with me.' She burst into tears and at the same time into laughter. He laughed with her and kissed her and made love to her again. 'I will always stay with you,' he managed to state somewhere in between.

As a matter of fact, after Fenris had pulled it off to lead her to her bedroom, stared at by a very understanding, very relieved and most of all very grateful and happy Bodahn, they made love several times over in her comfortable soft bed until they were utterly spent and utterly satisfied.

* * *

><p>'Yes, she is at home and no, you can't see her.' Bodahn kept his foot down. He challenged the other dwarf to make a try to enter the house and storm to the first floor. He particularly looked the human mage behind Varric's back straight in the face with an extremely dark scowl. The steward might not wield an axe, his expression said it would be just a matter of seconds before he would produce such weapon and not only to threaten but also to behead him with it.<p>

With a hardly concealed smile Varric heaved his hands. 'Wow! Calm down Bodahn! We're just here to make certain the Champion has indeed been found and no harm has befallen her.'

The steward tried to hide the broad grin that fought its way to his face. 'She perfectly alright.' And now he absolutely couldn't suppress that grin. 'More than alright I believe. And don't worry, the Saturnalia festivities that were planned for this night in this house will go on. We expect, that is Messere Hawke, Messere Fenris (he accentuated that last name with again a dark look at the present mage) and the staff expect you to arrive around seven bells. We're looking forward to it.' With that he pushed the door shut.

Behind his back Varric heard Anders grunt loudly. He clapped him on the underarm, which was approximately as high as he could reach. 'Come on, buddy, you know you couldn't win this fight. And what were you thinking anyway, with that demanding and sourly, er, spirit in your head. That one wouldn't have approved.'

'No,' Anders sighed, 'you're probably are right.'

'Of course I am. Now go home, get dressed properly and make a nice evening out of it. It's Saturnalia. Time for peace on earth and all that kind of things.'

* * *

><p>They woke up in a puzzle of limbs and in a rosy cloud of happiness. Fenris heaved his head to look at her glowing face under a tousled mass of hair. She smiled at him. 'I suppose I look as ridiculously happy as you do.'<p>

'I indeed hope so,' he smiled back and kissed tenderly the top of her nose. His look turned meditatively. 'You talked about family.' He gave her lopsided smile. 'And I thought about it. You know more about the subject than I do. I must confess I don't understand much of it.'

She pulled him in his arms and murmured against his chest, 'I have no relatives left but that doesn't mean I have no family.' She looked up at him and smiled brightly. 'I consider Varric family, my brother in fact. Well, some kind of a brother. And Aveline has always been like a sister to me.' She softly kissed his skin. 'I know Donnic is a dear friend to you, perhaps even your best friend.'

Fenris nodded. 'That's true. But does that make him family?'

Hawke sat up and he followed her, immediately drawing her into his arms because he grew cold at the very moment he lost her touch. 'In a way it does,' she said. 'I've always thought a family is formed out of the people you care about, not per se the once you are connected with through birth.' She tilted her head and grinned mischievously. 'I don't bear warm feelings for Uncle Gamlen for instance although he is my mother's brother. I do, however, love Varric and Aveline and, well, all of our friends. And the wonderful and unique persons who share this house with me.' She lightly tapped his nose with a finger. 'And I love you. And you're definitely no family.' She smiled again. 'But the feelings for my friends and their mutual feelings for me make them family.'

Fenris caressed her shoulders and back while he pondered that. It was after all a subject where he wasn't very – ha ha – familiar with. He stooped over her and lovingly kissed her. 'We, of course, can always start our own family.'

He left her completely stupefied while, inwardly grinning broadly, left the bed. 'How about a warm bath before breakfast – though lunch might be a better word.' He looked at the bright light streaming through the closed curtains. Very bright light. He frowned. He walked over to the window, pulled the heavy velvet cloth aside and stared at a, for Kirkwall rather exceptional view. He turned to Marian who still was searching for her voice.

'It's snowing. Happy Saturnalia, my love.'

Hawke jumped out of bed and joined him at the window. She put her arm around him while she leant her head against his shoulder. 'And happy Saturnalia to you,' she sighed with sparkling eyes and in utter contentment.

* * *

><p><strong>And a Merry Christmas to you all. And of course Happy New Year. I hope to read a lot of new exciting stories in 2015. Big kiss. <strong>**Love you all!**

**En natuurlijk voor mijn Nederlandse lezers: fijne Kerst en een gelukkig Nieuwjaar!**


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